Chapter 6 - The JudgeJudge Rebecca Sloan lived in a limestone mansion overlooking Lake Michigan.
No sirens.
No lights.
If Crownwell had police contacts—and Olivia increasingly believed he did—surprise was their only advantage.
Federal agents joined them near the outskirts.
Marcus rode beside Olivia.
“Facility has three buildings.”
“Thermal?”
“Drone sees heat in two.”
“Vehicles?”
“Six trucks.”
“Any movement?”
“One engine running.”
Olivia checked the clock.
11:31 p.m.
Twenty-nine minutes.
Station Nine stood behind chain-link fencing beneath towering freight lights.
The sign read:
CROWNWELL STORAGE — CLOSED FOR RENOVATION.
Yet the loading yard was active.
Men moved between trucks.
Olivia studied binoculars.
“Armed.”
Marcus nodded.
A refrigerated trailer sat at Dock Four.
Engine running.
A man carried a small figure toward it.
Olivia’s jaw tightened.
“That’s a child.”
Command authorized entry.
Teams moved.
The first shout came from the north gate.
“FEDERAL AGENTS!”
Gunfire followed.
Olivia ran toward Dock Four.
A man slammed the trailer doors.
“Stop!”
He fired.
The bullet struck the dock railing.
Olivia returned fire.
The man fell behind a pallet.
Marcus covered her.
“Go!”
Olivia reached the trailer.
Locked.
She fired the latch.
Pulled.
Cold air poured out.
Inside were eleven children.
Some awake.
Some unconscious.
All terrified.
Olivia nearly collapsed with relief.
“Police!”
One girl began sobbing.
“You’re safe.”
Paramedics rushed in.
Olivia counted.
Eleven.
Every number from the basement wall.
Including Ruby Ellis.
Ruby was alive.
Weak.
But alive.
Olivia touched the girl’s shoulder.
“Ruby?”
The child opened her eyes.
“Are you Detective Reed?”
Olivia froze.
“How do you know my name?”
Ruby whispered, “He told us you were coming.”
“Who?”
“Mr. Crown.”
Olivia looked outside.
Daniel Crownwell knew.
This rescue had been allowed.
Why?
Her radio crackled.
“Detective! We found an office!”
Olivia ran.
Inside the administrative building, every computer had been wiped.
Files burned in barrels.
But one laptop remained open.
Video feed.
Daniel Crownwell sat in a leather chair somewhere unknown.
Gray suit.
Silver tie.
Calm smile.
“Detective Reed.”
Olivia stopped.
The video was prerecorded.
“You found the girls. Congratulations.”
Marcus entered behind her.
Crownwell continued.
“But you misunderstand the game.”
Olivia stared.
“You believe this was about hiding eleven children.”
His smile widened.
“It was about identifying you.”
Olivia’s stomach twisted.
“Someone has been leaking information from law enforcement for years. Someone made the mistake of pushing too hard on Frank Danner. That person was you.”
Marcus whispered, “He baited us.”
Crownwell continued.
“Now I know exactly who threatens my organization.”
The screen changed.
A photograph appeared.
Emily.
Standing at Marcus’s house.
Taken tonight.
Olivia stopped breathing.
Marcus grabbed his phone.
“My house is secure.”
Olivia whispered, “Call.”
Marcus called.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
He turned pale.
Crownwell’s voice returned.
“You rescued eleven children, Detective.”
Pause.
“But can you rescue one?”
Olivia ran.
The drive back felt endless.
Police reached Marcus’s house first.
Front door open.
Security officer unconscious.
Another officer handcuffed inside the garage.
Emily gone.
On the kitchen table sat a red envelope.
Olivia opened it.
One sentence.
FORTY-EIGHT HOURS WAS GENEROUS.
Inside was Emily’s bracelet.
Olivia gripped the table.
Marcus stood behind her.
“I’m sorry.”
She turned.
“Don’t.”
“This happened at my house.”
“This happened because of Crownwell.”
She forced herself to think.
Emotion would kill Emily.
Logic might save her.
Crownwell wanted control.
Why take Emily after the girls had been rescued?
Leverage.
Against Olivia.
Against the investigation.
Maybe he wanted evidence destroyed.
Maybe he wanted Frank silenced.
Olivia called the hospital.
Frank was alive.
Still under guard.
She doubled security.
Then her phone rang.
Unknown number.
Olivia answered.
“Mom?”
Emily.
Olivia closed her eyes.
“I’m here.”
Emily was crying.
“Mom, I’m sorry.”
“You did nothing wrong. Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Where are you?”
“I don’t know.”
A man took the phone.
Daniel Crownwell.
“Detective.”
Olivia’s voice became ice.
“If you hurt her—”
“You will do exactly what I say.”
“What do you want?”
“Frank Danner.”
Olivia looked at Marcus.
“Why?”
“He belongs to me.”
“No.”
Crownwell laughed.
“Then your daughter belongs to me.”
Olivia nearly broke the phone in her hand.
“You have until sunrise.”
“To do what?”
“Bring Frank to the old Meridian rail terminal.”
“That’s a public site.”
“Not at sunrise.”
“And then?”
“You receive Emily.”
“How do I know she remains alive?”
Emily’s voice screamed in the background.
“Mom!”
Olivia’s eyes filled.
Crownwell returned.
“Sunrise.”
The line died.
Marcus stared at her.
“We cannot trade Frank.”
Olivia said nothing.
“Olivia.”
“I know.”
“We set a trap.”
“He’ll expect one.”
“We don’t have another choice.”
Olivia looked at Emily’s bracelet.
“There’s always another choice.”
At 3:10 a.m., Olivia returned to Frank’s hospital room.
He looked at her face.
“He took someone.”
She said nothing.
“Who?”
“My daughter.”
Frank closed his eyes.
“What does he want?”
“You.”
Frank began shaking.
“No.”
“You’re not going to Crownwell.”
He looked surprised.
“I’m not trading one victim for another.”
Frank laughed weakly.
“Victim?”
“You’re guilty. But you’re still entitled to due process.”
Frank stared at her.
“I helped him take children.”
“Yes.”
“I deserve whatever happens.”
“No. You deserve prison.”
Frank smiled sadly.
“Detective, if you want Emily alive, you’ll need to understand Crownwell.”
“Then tell me.”
Frank hesitated.
“He never appears where he says he will.”
“Then where?”
“The exchange location is bait.”
“What happens?”
“He watches remotely. Makes you leave the prisoner. Then another team takes them.”
“So Emily won’t be there.”
“No.”
“Where will she be?”
Frank swallowed.
“With the one person Crownwell trusts.”
“Who?”
Frank looked at her.
“His wife.”
Olivia frowned.
“Daniel Crownwell is widowed.”
“That’s what the public thinks.”
“Who is she?”
Frank gave the answer quietly.
“Judge Rebecca Sloan.”
Olivia stared at him.
Rebecca Sloan.
Cook County Superior Court.
Respected judge.
Twenty-three years on the bench.
The same judge who had signed multiple sealed orders limiting searches in several missing-child cases.
Olivia understood.
The network was bigger than Crownwell.
May you like
Much bigger.
And one of the most powerful judges in Chicago was helping run it.
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